


Something Good

by PenguinofProse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Awkward Compliments, Episode: s04e03 The Four Horsemen, F/M, Fluff, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Four Horsemen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Diverges from the point in 4.03 where Clarke asks Bellamy "tell me something good". Pure and insubstantial fluff.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 114





	Something Good

**Author's Note:**

> Here's some fluffy fluff that diverges from canon near the beginning of episode 4.03. Happy reading!

"Tell me something good." Clarke asks Bellamy.

It seems like a sensible request. That's what he does – he lifts her spirits when the going gets tough, offers her uncomfortable incongruous jokes about being drained of his blood.

He doesn't quite do that, today.

"You look cute in blue." He says, just like that. As if that's the kind of thing he can just casually drop into a conversation.

He can't, to be clear. Or rather, he _shouldn't_. She's trying to save the human race here. She can't be distracted by learning that the best friend she has something of a crush on thinks she looks cute in blue.

She allows her eyes to flicker down to her blue shirt. He thinks she looks cute in blue. That means, by implication, that he thinks she looks cute today. That he thinks she looks cute _now_.

Wow. That's – that's a lot.

She swallows thickly, tries to think of something useful to say. Should she compliment the way he fills out his jacket, or the way the tan of his T shirt brings out warm tones in his eyes?

No. That's probably a bit much. She should keep it light and simple – just like he did.

She's about to open her mouth to speak when the radio at Bellamy's belt crackles into life.

"Bellamy. Get over here and bring Clarke." The voice is unmistakably Raven's.

"We'll be right there." He confirms, and starts walking.

Clarke follows hopelessly in his wake. She cannot let this situation get away from her like this. Bellamy just _complimented_ her. She's not about to let that go unmarked, unmatched.

They're right outside the door of engineering by the time Clarke manages to catch up and gather her wits to slip him a quiet compliment.

"That T shirt really suits you." She offers, tone carefully unconcerned.

He grins as he reaches out to open the door. It definitely happens. It's a small grin, but it's there.

…...

Clarke doesn't stay long in her office, that night, after she has written the list of names and Bellamy has left her with his recommendation that she get some sleep. She doesn't take _orders_ from him, but sometimes she has been known to consider his _advice_.

She tidies her desk quickly before getting to her feet and heading to the door. But there, on the couch, is Bellamy's jacket.

He always does look really good in that jacket.

This, she thinks, is an opportunity. A chance to head to his room in the morning and pay him a compliment or two and see if they can try to have a conversation that's about looking cute in blue rather than saving their people.

And it's a chance to cuddle a jacket that smells like Bellamy while she falls asleep tonight. There's that, too.

…...

She knocks on his door before breakfast the following morning. She's aware that the crack of dawn is not a conventional time for paying compliments to her good friend, but they have a lot of work to do today so she figures they cannot afford to hang around.

He opens the door, yawning slightly, hair a beautifully tousled mess.

Oh, also – he's not wearing pyjamas. Or sweatpants or a T shirt or any other kind of sensible sleepwear. He's literally just standing there in his boxers.

She decides to go ahead and stare. He must know she wants to – anyone who was into guys would want to, in this moment. His chest and stomach and arms are – yeah, they're good. She tries and fails to think of an acceptable compliment.

"See something you like, Princess?" He asks her, brow quirked.

"You have nice arms." She says, then cringes to herself a little. That sounded inane, and pathetic, and also somewhat mean-spirited. He has nice _everything_ – it seems rude to mention only the arms.

"So do you." He offers lightly.

That floors her. She's taken aback by a compliment from Bellamy for the second time in as many days. Because she doesn't think of herself as a person who has nice arms – nice breasts, sure, or maybe even hair at a push. But he's a fan of her _arms_? Not to mention that she's wearing a jacket this morning so he can't even see them right now. That must mean he's been looking, she realises. That he's checked out her arms at some point in the past and liked them well enough to remember it.

Does she _really_ have nice arms?

"Did you want something?" He asks, and she remembers that they are in fact supposed to be having a conversation.

"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, you left your jacket last night." She holds it out to him. "I wondered about stealing it but I figured it looks better on you."

"I'm sure you'd look great in it too." He says lightly, but he reaches to take it from her all the same.

This seems to be becoming something of a _pattern_ , she decides, in that moment. Sure, it's only been happening since yesterday, but they really do seem to have adopted a new routine where they exchange trivial compliments about each other's appearance. Is that a normal thing to do, between best friends and close colleagues?

She suspects not. She suspects it's a more normal thing to do between lovers. And that's why she walks to breakfast with a spring in her step.

…...

It keeps happening. That's the wonder of it – here they are, facing the end of the world, and yet they seem to be making time to pick each other up with a kind word every so often. He's simply telling her something good just as he has always done, Clarke reasons. The only difference is that these are not jokes but superficial observations about the state of her hairstyle.

She thinks it's a shame they're always shallow, appearance-related compliments. Sure, those are really uplifting and always make her smile. And they allow her to dare to hope that he might be at least the tiniest bit attracted to her. But she likes to think there's more to her complicated friendship with Bellamy than just admiring each other's looks.

So it is that she decides to try doing something about it.

"You're looking well this morning." Bellamy offers at the breakfast table today.

"Thanks. It's all thanks to you – I sleep much easier at night knowing you've got my back. You're so kind and supportive." They're not the sort of words she's used to saying to him – or indeed to anyone – but it's worth it.

It's worth it because he looks completely floored. He sits there, jaw hanging slightly open, while porridge spills slowly from his spoon. Then he makes a game attempt to gather his wits, fixes a slight frown onto his face as if overcompensating for his first reaction, and comes out with a response.

"Thanks, Clarke. I don't – I wouldn't -"

"Just trying to tell you something good." She says lightly. "That's what we do for each other, isn't it?"

They do a hell of a lot more than that, and she knows it. She knows that he knows it, too. But he nods, smiling warmly, and gets to work on eating his breakfast.

At that point Miller shows up and sets his tray at Bellamy's side. "Morning, Clarke." He greets her cheerfully. "Hey, Bellamy – almost didn't recognise you with your hair in your face." He says pointedly.

Bellamy snorts. "It's not that bad, Miller."

"It is that bad. I am telling you as your friend that you need a haircut."

"No he doesn't. It looks great." Clarke offers easily.

This time, Bellamy doesn't even miss a beat. "You see, Miller? It looks great."

They're always been a little too good at working together, Clarke thinks, as she stifles a pleased grin.

…...

Bellamy seems to take her hint. He mixes it up a little, after that, compliments about her appearance and about her character seamlessly blended together. It gets to the point where she relies on his kind words more than she probably ought – when she forces herself out of bed in the morning, exhausted and stressed and with no enthusiasm for the day, she knows that at least Bellamy will tell her something good the moment he sees her.

"You always make me smile." He tells her, this morning, as they stride between breakfast and engineering. They have too many things to do before they drive the hydrazine to the island, and not enough time to do them.

Clarke snorts out a bitter laugh. "Not true. You're not smiling right now. You're frowning because you're about to drive all our hydrazine through hostile territory."

"I'm smiling now you've said that. It was so _you_ – totally cynical. That made me smile." She peeps a glance across at him and, sure enough, he really is smiling – and it even looks genuine.

She cannot help but smile back at him. "Thanks for this." She says, inadequate but heartfelt. They have never explicitly discussed their ongoing compliment exchange before, but she figures it's worth a go.

"Any time. And thanks yourself."

"You started it." She points out, because it's the truth.

They walk in easy silence for a few more minutes. Clarke is already moving onto the next issue of the day in her mind – packing the truck, and getting Monty's seal of approval, and checking their route, and -

"I don't say those things to make it even, or whatever." Bellamy tells her, eyes averted, jaw firm. "I don't care who started it. I say them because I mean them – every single time."

"Me too." She assures him, reaching out a furtive hand to squeeze his forearm.

And then they're at engineering, and she drops her hand, and gets on with saving the human race.

…...

There's something on Bellamy's mind, as they stand on the shore and wait for Emori to pick them up. Clarke can tell, as she takes in his firm jaw and furrowed brows. She wonders if it's anything to do with the dangerous vehicle chase, or with the body bag Roan whispered her a quick explanation about.

She's tempted to ask Bellamy what's going on with him – he always helps her out when she needs support.

But he starts speaking before she gets the chance, voice carefully light.

"All that drama and your hair still looks great." He teases.

She flushes, self-conscious, and tucks some strands back behind her ear. "Thanks."

He steps forwards, combs out the section she just brushed away once more with his fingers. Lets it fall back over her cheeks and forehead to be swept about by the wind.

"Leave it." He recommends, voice a little husky. "I like it like this."

Does it make her weak, to bow to his preferences for her hairstyle? She's not sure. All she knows is that their partnership is built on much firmer foundations than whether or not her hair is getting in her eyes. So if she chooses to wear it falling across her face because he prefers it that way? In the grand scheme of things, she doesn't think that's such a problem.

…...

He doesn't bother holding a grudge for the locked bunker door. Clarke isn't necessarily surprised by that – forgiveness is what they do best, after all – but she is a little taken aback by quite how quickly and seamlessly he seems to decide to move on.

He simply doesn't mention it, when they get in the rover together for the drive to the island. He cracks on with a different topic of conversation, instead.

"You're really rocking that radiation suit." He tells her, but his tone is perhaps a little more careful than normal.

"Eyes on the road." She reprimands him sharply.

There's a beat of silence. For once in his life he does as she asks – he has his gaze fixed on the track before them. But he's frowning, and she doesn't like that. He was only trying to lift her spirits.

"You're supposed to be mad at me." She informs him.

He snorts. "When has that ever worked out for me?"

"She's your _sister_."

"Yes. But – you're _you_. I was hurt when I learnt what you'd done but – you put it right."

"You call _not shooting you_ putting it right?" It's hardly a grovelling apology, is it?

"Yeah. We're OK." A loud swallow. "And you really are rocking that radiation suit."

She laughs, then, and lets him have it. If he's so sure that all is forgiven, she'll try not to stew in self-loathing too much longer. She doesn't promise to succeed – but that's where Bellamy's little uplifting compliments are so helpful.

"I'd return the compliment but I miss your curls." She tells him honestly.

He grins. "I know you do."

He's a kind guy, but he's also infuriatingly smug, she decides. It's a side of him she's not seen much since the dropship, and that she never realised she missed until this moment.

…...

They make it to the Ring in the nick of time. It's a stressful day, but they've had worse.

At least, that's the way Clarke feels until she stands by the window and looks down at the burning Earth. She did that – she brought down ALIE. Sure, it's not like she stood there and lit a match. The Earth would have gone up in flames anyway. But it's her fault that all those people are dead.

Then again, in the City of Light they wouldn't have truly lived, either.

She hears someone behind her, knows instinctively that it's Bellamy from the weight of his footsteps and the rhythm of his breath. He walks right up to her, slings a casual arm across her shoulders.

Is that a thing they do, now? Do they hug each other loosely whilst standing at windows?

She decides that they do. She reaches her arm around his waist in turn, leans into his shoulder a little further.

"Tell me something good." She asks – almost _begs_. She's standing here watching a planet burn and knowing that everyone she has ever loved is either dead or buried – or both.

Everyone, that is, except Bellamy and the precious few friends and acquaintances who made it up here with them.

"I'm in love with you." He says, just like that. As if that's the kind of thing he can just casually drop into a conversation.

He can, to be clear. Or rather, she's happy he did. They're done with saving the human race for now at least, and she has the time and leisure and peace to be distracted by her best friend falling in love with her.

For the record – she's in love with him, too. She realises it's past time she clarified that for him.

"I'm in love with you, too. In case the endless stream of compliments didn't give it away."

He laughs, a delighted sound, and turns his head to nuzzle into her hair slightly. "There was that. There was also the long hugs and the staring at me and the way we seem to end up touching for no good reason all the time."

She squeezes her arm tighter around his waist, mock offended. "You were as bad."

"Yeah. I was."

They fall silent, then, and she knows what's coming. She tilts her head upwards, finds that he is already angling his face towards hers for a kiss. They've done things a little backwards as usual, she thinks – love confessions before kissing, compliments before they were ready to get together. But for two people who took on the leadership of a bunch of teenagers together before they were even friends, is that really so surprising?

It's a good kiss – soft and tender, long and lingering. But it's a little tentative and hardly going to set the world on fire. Maybe that's a good thing, Clarke thinks, casting her mind to the burning planet just outside the window. Maybe both of them could do with living a slightly calmer life for a while, spending less time consumed by flames.

It's with that resolved that she pays Bellamy another one of those little compliments they enjoy so much.

"You're a good kisser." She tells him, smiling a cheeky smile.

He positively glows, laughter in his eyes, as he pulls her back in for a warm hug. There's something really wonderful about falling in love with her best friend, she decides – there's this steady comfort alongside the fierce attraction. And Bellamy looks so damn happy, it's really feeding into her own joy in this moment.

He's been bringing hope into her life for so long – she gets to bring something good into his life, now, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
